


Pirates of the Caribbean Ficlets 2005

by the_dala



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dala/pseuds/the_dala
Summary: Various ficlets published in the summer/fall of 2005, written at request for friends. Many pairings to choose from!
Relationships: Gillette/Theodore Groves/James Norrington, Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann/Will Turner, Jack Sparrow/Will Turner, James Norrington/Elizabeth Swann/Will Turner, James Norrington/Jack Sparrow, Theodore Groves/James Norrington
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Negotiations (Jack/Elizabeth)

"A respectable haul," said Jack philosophically, dipping his hand into the barrel of gunpowder.

Elizabeth's eyes flickered to a group of the _Pearl's_ men lighting a celebratory pipe. "It will fetch a good price, no doubt, and the sooner we rid ourselves of it, the better."

"Aye, though we'll keep a bit for our own stores," he agreed. He watched the dark grains run through his fingers, avoiding her gaze. "And would you like a portion for that fine-looking pistol o' yours?"

She planted a fist on her hip. "You know very well what I would like, Jack Sparrow."

Following her glance, Jack did an exaggerated double-take at the glittering blade newly strapped to his belt. "Surely you don't mean this wretched old thing, lass. Why, 'twas hardly fit for the French bastard from whence it came."

"It is a beautiful sword, Captain, and you have no need of it," she said through gritted teeth, impatient with his teasing. "May I have it or not?"

He cocked his head in consideration, idly stroking his beard. "Hmmm. I daresay I might be persuaded to part with it," he admitted at last.

"Oh?" said Elizabeth, the corner of her mouth twitching despite her best efforts to keep it firm.

Jack's lips split into a wide grin. He dusted the last of the powder from his hand and extended it to her, formal as a lord. "Shall we discuss it over a bottle of rum, milady?"


	2. Midnight Sun (Sparrington)

This is what you chase now, when time and weather permit, and even sometimes when they do not. The long climb, up his arbor and up his body. Each fall alike, but never the same.

“The moon is bright tonight,” he says in the tone of lazy, lofty satisfaction that curls around the bed like sunset heat. You don’t have to look out the open window to see it hanging full and heavy. Thieves’ moon. He cups his palm at the back of your neck to catch the shudder before it runs down your spine.

Shifting an arm in order to lace your fingers through his, you reply, “There’s places where the sun shines at night ‘stead of the moon.”

“Where?”

“North.” You’ve never been, only heard tell, but no need for him to know that. "And south."

“Thank you, Jack, that makes it all so much clearer.”

You pinch him for his cheek. He kicks you in the shin – not very hard, fortunately, as you’re lying too close. “Near the poles, love.”

“If that is so, how could a man tell night from day?”

A shrug, fingertips brushing the back of his palm. “I expect the way a blind man tells. The knowing’s something differ'nt from whatever signs and signals may be around.”

He snorts, setting off a single chime in your hair. “That’s ridiculous.”

But his hand squeezes yours, and after a moment of silence he lifts it to his lips. You smile against the straight line of his collarbone, faintly, letting him think you asleep. Admit it he may not, but he knows as well as you do.


	3. By Nature Moved (Norrington/Gillette/Groves)

James Norrington was born to command. Every man who had ever served under him said so, even those who’d broken his rules and earned his ire. No amount of favor with the admiralty could raise a captain through the ranks so quickly, and Norrington had no need for politics anyway. He proved himself in battle and in the command of his ships and sailors.

When Gillette was transferred to the _Dauntless_ , Norrington’s flagship, no amount of celebration could fully express his elation. He was surprised to find himself senior officer in terms of service if not total years, and his meeting the former first lieutenant was colored with awkwardness.

But Groves only smiled at him, shrugged off being supplanted, and asked him if he wanted to hear how Norrington had taken the _Victoire_ despite a bout of flu incapacitating half his crew.

Later Gillette came to grasp the quirks of Groves’ personality, and precisely why not much concerned him as long as he sailed alongside England’s champion of the Indies. In time he became less preoccupied with rank himself.

Because however tightly he ran his ship, however strong and unyielding a figure he cut on deck, Norrington still lowered himself before a mere lieutenant – in private quarters, of course, and with the understanding that fair play was a virtue one did not shed with a greatcoat.


	4. A Bit of Luck (Norrington/Groves)

“Are you quite sure you don’t want to borrow some of my cufflinks?”

Flushing, Norrington took the worn little bits of brass from his lieutenant. “Thank you, but no.”

Groves made a face as the captain – commodore, in fact, though it would not be official for another few hours – fastened his shirt cuffs. “I mean no disrespect, sir. It’s just that the rest of your uniform is so –” Grand. Magnificent. Stately. Lovely. “– so fine. It only seems right that you have everything match.”

Norrington held up one wrist and gazed at the out-of-date, unfashionable cufflink fondly. “I got these when I made lieutenant, Theodore.” His eyes fell to the floor, and his mouth curved in a faintly embarrassed manner. “It’s probably foolish, but I have always thought them rather lucky.”

Groves almost dropped the heavy wool coat over his arm. The man should have ten of anything that made him smile like that; so few things did. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Norrington shrugged and turned. Groves lifted the dress coat, helping him slide his arms into its sleeves. “Do you believe in luck, Groves?”

“Of course I do,” said Groves promptly, smoothing his hands down Norrington’s shoulders. “My mother thought a new moon was lucky. ‘All of my children were born under a new moon,’ she’d say, and then she’d slit her eyes at me and add, ‘Except for you, Teddy.’”

Norrington laughed, some of the apprehension behind his eyes easing.

“Some of the native people claim rabbit’s feet bring good luck,” Groves continued, lifting his commander’s hat and brushing imaginary dust from it.

“I daresay the rabbits would disagree,” said Norrington dryly. He took a deep breath as Groves settled the tricorn atop his freshly powdered wig. “Well? Am I put together to your liking?”

Groves leaned back, enjoying the opportunity to study Norrington with such freedom. He did cut a fine figure today. Even the little Swann minx wouldn’t be able to say otherwise.

“One more thing, if I may be so bold,” said Groves thoughtfully, finger and thumb to his chin. “For luck.”

Norrington raised one elegant eyebrow, and Groves leaned in to kiss him.


	5. His Banner Over Me (Jack/Will)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the original post: Shameful abuse of Song of Solomon. Shameful abuse of Will's wits, really, although he's not complaining.

“ _In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_.”

“Jack, that’s blasphemous,” Will protests even as he shudders beneath Jack’s touch, the oil streaking his brow, the center of his breastbone, one nipple and then the other.

“And all we’ve been up to ain’t?” Jack inquires with a chuckle, swiping his tongue along the far left point of the cross. The boy’s skin tastes of salt and sweat and sin. Jack nips and licks his way up, over the pulse jumping in Will’s throat, along his jaw, to whisper in his ear, “‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.'”

He spills more oil across Will’s belly, prompting a reflexive clench of muscles that makes him catch his own breath. “‘Because of the savor of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee.'” Will snorts at that, then breathes in sharp and swift as Jack’s fingers curve around his cock.

“‘Draw me,’” Jack murmurs, giving the lad’s rigid shaft a good, smooth pull, “‘we will run after thee: the king has brought me into his chambers...’” He slides his free hand once around the base, trickling oil down Will’s balls and into the cleft behind, urging Will’s thighs farther apart with his elbow. “'We will be glad and rejoice in thee –‘” Will cries out harshly as Jack presses a finger into him, his hips rising from the bed.

Jack strokes him harder, adds a second finger and a third, bites down gently on the soft lobe of the lad’s ear. “‘– we will remember thy love more than wine...’” Will’s arm goes tight around his shoulders, chin nudging Jack’s, seeking his mouth to muffle the whimpers. Jack kisses him and plays the pleasure out within his body, then breaks away as he feels Will start to tremble.

“The upright love thee,’” he finishes, impressed with his own powers of recall, “and so shall I.”

Will sobs like a raptured pilgrim when his seed spills over Jack’s skin.

“Well,” he sighs a few minutes later, cheeks still rose-pink, legs sprawled lazily and hand gripping Jack’s cock in a loose promise, “dirty poetry is certainly more appropriate than a holy symbol of the Church.”

Jack tucks his head under Will’s arm and laughs until his guts ache.


	6. Back Door Man (Jack/Will+Elizabeth)

It had been too long for pleasantries such as greetings or inquiries after mutual friends, too long even for a warning. One moment Will was laying aside his poker to meet whomever he could hear was opening the back door and the next he was bent back over a sawhorse, Jack’s teeth at his throat. He grunted at the sudden attack and the uncomfortable position into which he’d been twisted, but soon his legs gave way and he thumped to the ground, knocking his head against the wooden crosspiece.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jack muttered insincerely, climbing into his lap and wrenching his waistcoat open. Sharp words dissolved into a moan as Jack sucked firmly at the skin below his left ear and pinched a nipple into defensive hardness. Still dizzy, Will clutched at Jack’s threadbare coat and opened his mouth for a demanding tongue. The kiss was brief; once he’d gotten Will’s breeches open, Jack’s head ducked down, twisted hair and baubles scraping Will’s torso.

He fell backwards, knocking his head again but uncaring of anything beyond warm, wet pressure. He was hard so quickly it was just this side of painful. His stuttered gasp only made Jack chuckle and take him deeper.

Staring up at the beams high above, his head cleared and he began to come back to himself. And he said, “Wait – stop.”

Shock as much as his words caused Jack to obey him. He scrambled up, wiping a hand across his shining lips, and gazed at Will with astonishment and no small amount of indignation.

Will pulled himself up into a sitting position, leaving the laces but tugging his shirt straight. “Elizabeth, please come out,” he called to the forge at large.

Jack’s eyebrows drew together. A frustrated sigh from the shadows near the donkey’s stall drew his attention. Will’s bride of three months came slinking out of her hiding spot, her lips curved in a pout.

“How did you know I was there?”

Jack rose up on his knees, frowning at the blacksmith. “Yes, how did you know?” It was clear he liked to think himself too savvy to have missed Elizabeth’s presence, but there was a thing or two Will could proudly hold over Captain Jack Sparrow’s head.

“I live with you,” he said to Elizabeth, leaning back on his hands. “I know precisely what you sound like when you’re trying to be silent.”

Recovering in admirable time, Jack draped himself over Will, hanging on his shoulder and leering at Elizabeth. “Awful selfish to’ve gone and spoilt the game.” Before Elizabeth could express the anger snapping in her eyes, he added, “Addressin’ the lad, o’course.”

“It makes me feel queer to know you’re watching when I can’t see you,” Will complained as Elizabeth crossed the room. Standing over them, she bent down to kiss the top of Will’s head and tug Jack’s braided beard.

“Well, that’s all you needed to say, love.” She perched neatly on top of the wooden table and leaned forward, elbow on her knee, chin in her hand, and fluttered her eyelashes at them. “Now that I’m in the open, please continue.”

Jack’s hand had already crept between Will’s legs. “With pleasure, Mistress Turner,” he purred, winking at Elizabeth. He pushed Will flat again.

If Will craned his neck, he could just see Elizabeth at the edge of the table, sliding a hand beneath her lifted skirt. She was turned upside down -- not unlike his life, now that he thought about it.

He let out a breath, closed his eyes, and resigned himself to the whims of fate, Elizabeth’s intent gaze, and Jack’s wicked tongue.


	7. Jealousy Turning Saints Into the Sea (Jack/Will)

Jack was jealous of Will’s sword. He wielded it with complete authority, never concentrating so fiercely on anything else, and he could go for hours at a time with only the enemies in his own head as opponents. Whatever skills he still lacked as a fledgling sailor were more than made up for in battle; more than one tide had been turned by the sight of young Turner cutting a grim swath with his sword. And oh, when he cleaned it and polished it, taking such care – one hand lightly but firmly wrapped around the hilt, the other running up and down the long, slender blade...

Will was jealous of Jack’s rum. Or, more precisely, the rum and the bottles in which it came. For one thing Jack was never without it, and little brought him greater joy than popping open a particularly good, well-aged brew. Once they’d captured a whole shipment of it and Will could have sworn tears sprang to the captain’s eyes. To watch him drink, really drink, when he had the leisure to enjoy it, was sheer torture. Will tried not to stare, but he was captivated by the sight of full lips pressed to the cool rim, a tanned throat working as he swallowed, tongue darting out to catch one last drop...

Only a fool with a death wish would have parted Will from his sword or Jack from his rum, and neither Jack nor Will fit such a description. Instead Will asked if he might share Jack’s bottle one starry night, and the next morning Jack asked if he might try a few passes with Will’s sword. That was where it started, they would later conclude.

Privately Jack had always wondered if Will slept with sword in hand or beneath his pillow, just as Will suspected Jack of hoarding his supply even while lost to slumber. Each man was delighted to discover that he’d been quite wrong, because the captain’s bunk was large enough for two occupants – provided they slept very close, and the two in question did – and not much else.


	8. Refrain (Cotton, gen)

Out of all the whores in Tortuga, Nancy wasn’t the prettiest or the lewdest or the merriest, but she was the only one could read. Leastwise, she’d never met any other. Later she wondered if he had sought her out a-purpose or if he came upon her by chance. He was a keen one, that old sailor, and he listened. Now and then she watched him in a group of his fellows and saw how most folk forgot he could hear because he couldn’t speak up, couldn’t interrupt their prattling tales and boasts. Men were funny like that. The women never forgot he had no tongue to wag.

It took some patience and, she must admit, some jingling of his purse before she could make sense of his gestures and his bird’s speech that first time.

“Sing?” she asked, confounded. “You want me t’ sing?”

John Cotton touched his grizzled throat again and nodded. The parrot cried, “A chantey, a chantey for the morn!” and then fell blessedly silent.

“And ye’ll pay me for’t, aye?” Nan wanted to know, suspicious, for no man’d ever approached her with such a proposition. Cotton nodded gravely and counted out the coins, the fee she’d named plus a bit besides, right into her hands. So Nan sang for her supper that night.

That was all he ever wanted, her voice and as quiet a spot as they could find for to make the most of it, ordinary though it was. He sat beside her, his blue eyes closed, patting her hand in reassurance when she fumbled a note. She knew a good number of songs and didn’t run out till the third time; he didn’t seem to mind her repeating her favorites.

Before long he was bringing her grubby sheets of music, handing each over like it was something precious. She would work out the shaky letters and bad spelling while he tapped the rhythm on his thigh, until between them they managed to cobble together something fit for singing. A couple of times he brought her ballads in Spanish or French, languages she’d heard often enough to mimic in cadence and spirit, even if she didn’t understand a bleeding word. Once there was a sweet tune in a lilting tongue unrecognizable yet tiptoeing on the edge of familiar, like she’d heard it in a dream sometime. That was the time he brought her an orange, peeling it while she sang so that the scent filled her with each breath between verses.

The other girls giggled whenever she went off with him, needling her about Grandad and his wrinkles and his empty mouth. Nan took John Cotton's arm, gave his parrot a hunk of stale sourdough, and left them to their night's work.


	9. Collection (Jack/Will/Elizabeth)

“So good of Mistress Potter to keep them all for me, but now I’ve got the _Pearl_ back – ah, here we are. This one’s from Bombay; got lovely spices and such in it. Here’s a rose scent. ‘Twould be lovely combed in your hair, lass. I’m particularly fond of this one – very light, a little bit goes a long way. This un's a rare breed, must be sparing with it till we get a chance t’ sail around the Cape. Now, that I filched off an old Spanish nobleman – aye, and did he have stories!”

“Yes, Jack, they’re all – ah – charming,” Elizabeth interrupted, pursing her lips at the two dozen or so bottles, flasks, and jars hidden in a box beneath the bower floorboard. “But what on earth are they for?”

Jack was wafting a green glass bottle under his nose, lips curled fondly at whatever memories the scent conjured. His eyes snapped open to regard her with smug amusement. “Care t’ take a guess?”

“Cooking? Polishing boots?” Will suggesting, reaching for a stoneware jar. Seeing the speculative look on his face, Jack smacked his hand away.

“Far too precious for such mundane activities ,” he said, shaking his head. “Tell you what...” Sidling up between Will and Elizabeth, he draped an arm over each and flashed gold at them. “Let’s get these beauties back onboard, and I’ll give you a practical demonstration.”


	10. Bargaining Chip (Gen)

Peering down his nose at the sword point fixed to his chin, Jack took a step back only to hit a conveniently solid wall. “I’d really rather hoped we might meet again on a somewhat less sour note, lass.”

“You are hardly in a position to object,” said Elizabeth tartly, flicking her wrist so that he had to jerk his head up to avoid being nicked. She knew his tricks too well.

Swallowing, Jack tried a smile. It moved the girl in the tattered coat and tricorn not a whit. “Nevertheless, I do object, quite vociferously. If you’ll just put that down an’ let me buy you a pint or –”

“You stole my boat!” she snapped, free hand on her pistol. “Not to mention my fiancé!”

His fingers clenched on the ripe banana for which he'd entirely lost his appetite. “But with every intention of bringing ‘im back!”

“Oh, you can keep Will,” she said with a shrug, finally lowering the sword to Jack’s intense relief. He reached out with the banana hand – a peace offering, as it were – and she rapped his knuckles soundly with the flat of her blade. “But we will now discuss the fate of the Spanish brig the two of you captured this morning.”


	11. Share and Share Alike (Will/Elizabeth/James)

“It’s perfectly legal for a woman to take a second husband,” Elizabeth declared, running her fingers through James’s hair while Will worked the kinks from her shoulders with his lovely large hands. It was past time the commodore ordered a new bed made, or she would bloody well do it for him.

He twisted his head on her stomach, looking at her upside down with amused green eyes. “Is that so?”

“It is,” she said firmly. “I’ve read about it.”

Will chuckled as she curved into his touch. “In what text?”

She ignored his question and continued, “If her first husband should be adequate in many ways but lacking in some, she may with all legal and divine mandate take another in compensation. Oh, I shall have to write that down...”

“I beg your pardon, Elizabeth!” said Will with genuine indignance, sitting back on his heels.

James sat up to face them, one brow lifted. “In what ways, madam, is Mr. Turner lacking? Because from my own perspective, I cannot see your reasoning.”

“Thank you, James,” said Will with a huff, too busy scowling at his wife to take notice of the twitch at the corner of the commodore’s mouth.

Elizabeth dimpled at each man in turn and twined a white curl around her finger. “Why, you haven’t any uniforms for me to borrow, love. And James is more flattered by my corset.”


End file.
